


Rumble Strips

by citrusella



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: (it's technically like December 29 in-fic), (title only picked because it was a road driving term), Conversations, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, New Year's Eve, New Years, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, if you don't know what a rumble strip is, it makes your whole car vibrate to warn you you're about to go offroad, it's that thing on the side of the road that's supposed to wake you up if you drive over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusella/pseuds/citrusella
Summary: Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Greg] notices [Fill in: Steven] is in a somber mood lately. Out of the goodness of their heart they try to cheer up the sad soul in the only way they know how: [Fill in: WHO WANTS TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP?!]"I really thought I could handle myself on my own." He scoffed. "Even my own therapist didn't think I could do it.""I bet she thought you could handle yourself just fine. She probably just thought you'd do better with your support system close, bud. Like, literally, I mean." His eye weaved through the thin line of gravel past the edge of the shoulder. "You started saying some pretty concerning things."Or: Greg and Steven stop on the side of the interstate on their way to Empire City for New Year's, to have a conversation.For the Cluster Christmas Writing Challenge!
Relationships: Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22
Collections: The Cluster Writers' Fic Collection, lofi fanfics to practice social distancing to





	Rumble Strips

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to get done before the 25th but ah well. It's about New Year's and it beat December 31/January 1 so that's fine. XD
> 
> (Steven also wasn't supposed to feel so down but that just kinda... happened? XP)

"…I wish I had pretty PTSD."

Greg completed his lane change before saying, "Come again, Schtu-ball?"

Steven trained his gaze on the car in front of him. "You know… like the kind you see on TV? In the movies? When you're all 'oh woe is me, I have trauma but it's okay, don't worry' and you never lash out or annoy people with your triggers or get tired of things or… need to come back home?" He winced at that last one.

They were on the interstate, but Greg pulled into the emergency lane and brought the van to a stop.

"Steven? I don't think those people actually exist. Life… Life's more complicated than TV, bud."

Steven pulled the door latch and stepped out of the van.

He thought maybe the cold air would get him more alert. It didn't.

Greg cracked his own door and walked around the van's perimeter, the long way.

Steven turned his head as Greg rounded the back.

"I really thought I could handle myself on my own." He scoffed. "Even my own therapist didn't think I could do it."

"I bet she thought you could handle yourself just fine. She probably just thought you'd do better with your support system close, bud. Like, literally, I mean." His eye weaved through the thin line of gravel past the edge of the shoulder. "You started saying some pretty concerning things."

…He remembered. It had only taken two appointments of him talking that way, of him _looking_ so… _gah_ on their video calls, for her to ask him if he'd talked to anyone else about these sorts of thoughts and then, when he said no, to ask if he was going to and, after another no, if she might be allowed to tell his dad.

He caved and said yes, mostly because he was concerned about what she would do if he didn't.

It had taken just half a week more for her to order—not suggest—that he go back to Beach City.

…Maybe it would have been longer if he hadn't made it sound like he was planning something, when Dad had called him after his therapist had called Dad.

Then again, maybe if it were longer it would have progressed to the point she wouldn't have given him the choice to go under his own power.

…

It was just supposed to be the PTSD thing, not stupid depression, too.

PTSD… well, it wasn't _easy_ , no. But after all these months, it made sense. It felt like he _understood_ that part now, but suddenly another fork was thrown into his garbage disposal brain.

Granted, maybe the new part made sense, too—would explain why it got harder and harder to push himself to take a shower, stop for a meal, stop for _anything_ , go to sleep, wake up, start driving again—

"Schtu-ball?"

Steven sucked on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for."

"…I'm sorry, anyway."

Greg didn't answer, just put his hand on Steven's shoulder.

Steven's hand snaked into his hair, but at the last second, he stopped himself from pulling, afraid Dad would say something. "Did you ever even tell me where you were taking me? I… I know you've been planning the trip for a little bit because you _did_ say we were going somewhere, but I feel like you just… told me there was a road trip and had me get in a car. …I'm sure you told me where we're going and I just wasn't paying attention."

"Longacre Square, bud. I said it last week." Greg frowned. "…You must have been having a really hard time, huh?"

Steven rubbed his hand across his face."I don't know what the big deal is. I'm even worse than normal. Maybe it's the weather?"

Greg nodded at the possibility; Steven had always seemed a _little_ mellower in the winter, or virtually any time there was less sun, but this time had been particularly intense. It was as if he had no energy at all.

Steven kept as much attention as possible on the patchy, brown grass past the edge of the road. "…You're not taking me to the sphere fall, are you?"

Greg gave a single shrug. "I was… kinda planning on it, but—"

Steven's interruption came meek, ashamed. "I'm… too on edge. Or… whatever. It'll… It'll be packed, I don't think I'll be able to handle the crowd right now." He looked down at his feet. Since when did he have trouble being around people? Doing exciting things?

Greg moved his hand down from his son's shoulder, giving Steven's upper back a short, firm rub. "Well… you'll have a couple days to decide once we get there, bud. And if we don't end up going, I sprung for a view, so we could still watch from the room." He was quick to add, "If you want, I mean."

Steven turned to look Greg in the face. "I dunno. What if even that's too much? What if you spent a ton of money on me and I didn't even use it right?"

Greg brushed one of Steven's messy curls off his forehead. "Steven. Even if you just use the room as a different place to eat and brush your teeth and take a shower, then… hey, you got outta the house for more than five minutes. You can do more if you want to, but don't feel like you gotta do anything special or go anywhere or push yourself hard just for your old man. We're using the money right because we're together. Think of it as a road trip where you don't have to manage everything yourself this time." He rubbed Steven's head, to the teen's muted smile and chagrin.

He turned his head to look through the van's window at his seat. "Is it okay if I sleep the rest of the way there?"

Greg scratched his stubble. "I mean, we're already in Jersey, Schtu-ball, so… I mean, we have _some_ time before we actually get to Empire City, but… wait, how much did you sleep last night?"

A blush rose to Steven's cheeks. "…What would you say if my answer was that I didn't?"

Greg sighed lightly. "Go ahead, bud… but you gotta try to sleep at a _normal_ hour tonight."

Steven bit lightly on his tongue and turned to grab the door handle. "Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> "suddenly another fork was thrown into his garbage disposal brain"
> 
> [Let's do the fork in the garbage disposal! DING DING DING DA DING DING DA DING DING](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4AFQc4ZrvA)


End file.
